


Can I Park My TARDIS Here?

by literal_semicolon



Series: Can I Park My TARDIS Here? [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-27 23:12:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10056146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literal_semicolon/pseuds/literal_semicolon
Summary: Set sometime before he goes to meet the Ponds in Utah (The Impossible Astronaut, S6E1).Ever notice he had a truck, but not a TARDIS?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while back, so it's kind of dated. Also it's set at BYU-Idaho because that's the only college campus I know.
> 
> Eliza and Emily are my own characters.

I grinned at my roommate, who was absently munching on popcorn as the theme song of our favorite show began. “You know what would be fantastic?”

She came out of her stupor at the ninth Doctor’s catchphrase. “What?”

“If all of this were actually true, it would be amazing.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly. Daleks didn’t steal the Earth and add it to their giant planet engine, did they?”

“I thought Big Bang II changed the timeline,” I said.

“Whatever. The Doctor doesn’t actually exist. If he did, he’d have stopped this show from airing _years_ back.” She tossed a piece of popcorn at me and paused the TV.

“What if he’s the one giving the writers all the information?” I said, getting excited. “What if he’s nearing the end of his last life, and he wants to use the show to say goodbye to all his previous companions?”

“What a silly thought. He’s said goodbye, I’m sure. And in any case, why would he have started back in the 60s, when the effects were crap?”

“His companions go all the way back to the 60s. Duh.”

“And the writers believe they’re stealing the story from him when in reality he’s giving it to them? Come on, Liz, use your head. He wouldn’t blow up Donna’s head just to say goodbye to her and Wilf.”

I sighed and relented. “Yeah, that would be unfortunate.”

“Besides, it’s just a television show. Now shut up and let me watch this. It’s the finale of season six, and I’m not going to let you ruin it for me.”

“Fine… The Doctor’s a frickin’ genius!” I cried, jumping up and dodging a hail of popcorn kernels. Emily was laughing a bit, so I figured I was forgiven. “I finished the series already,” I told her. “You watch it; I’m going to take a walk.”

“Walk? Now?” She looked pointedly out the window. It was getting dark.

“There are lampposts,” I said. “And I need the exercise anyway. See you!”

“Bye!” she said, “Watch out for Cybermen!”

I grinned, my hand on the doorknob. “I can handle Cybermen—it’s the Vashta Nerada I’m worried about.”

I walked toward campus—a ten-minute walk at a brisk pace. I greeted the blinking streetlamp with a “Hello to you too” as it blinked on long enough for me to pass under it.

It was a strange thing to do—personify a streetlamp—but it was better than to let my imagination take control. If I had, I would be terrified out of my mind at the thought of any evil fictional creature or character coming after me. So the streetlamp had to be friendly.

I glanced around the parked cars before dashing around them, not wanting to get smushed into the pavement, but also not really caring to walk through damp grass. When I reached the place where the sidewalk began again, I didn’t have to worry about either.

I made it to the men’s housing across the street from campus, before I started at the sight of something… blue. My heart thudded slowly back to its normal pace as I realized what I’d glimpsed was nothing but a dumpster. I laughed at myself for thinking I’d seen…

Well, I reached the MC unscathed, but it was nearing seven, so there wasn’t much I could do. The university bookstore had closed more than an hour before I showed up, and the convenience store was only going to be open for about 15 more minutes. After deciding I didn’t need a quarter-pound of fudge, I bought a notebook and left.

I wasn’t even halfway back when some random guy caught up with me and started speaking in hushed tones. “Don’t look now, but you have two shadows.”

I rolled my eyes at the fake accent and glanced down. Sure enough, I did. One was being cast by the full moon, the other by a lamppost I’d just walked past. I stopped walking and turned to him. “I don’t know who you are, but if Emily, or any of my other friends sent you, get lost.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Well, I’m the Doctor. And I don’t know an Emily or anyone else. Aren’t you worried about your second shadow?”

I glared at him for a bit before pointing at the sky. “Full moon tonight,” I said. Then I glanced at his clothes. Definitely eleventh Doctor. “And it’s kind of early to be dressed up for Halloween.”

He looked up, then looked down, then back at me. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Shut up—you know what’s wrong.” I started walking again.

He drew level with me. “No… I’m pretty sure I don’t.”

“Do you even know who the Doctor is?” I asked.

“An eleven-hundred-and-four-year-old Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey—that’s me.”

I laughed. “Alright, the Doctor you’re dressed up as—how many times has he regenerated?”

“Ten,” he replied quickly. “Now I’ve got a question: how on Earth do you know who I am?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I have no clue who you are, Random Stranger. All I know is that you’re dressed up as one of the most famous characters that have ever graced my television screen with their presence.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, stopping me. “Television? I’m on _television_? Since when? And why have I not heard about this until now?”

“Hm… I think you’re taking this role-play a little too far,” I said, walking again.

“No, you can’t go yet.”

I kept walking, but called behind me: “If you’re really, truly interested in pretending to be the Doctor, you can wait until Halloween.”


	2. Chapter 2

I didn’t see that guy again until Halloween night. In the same outfit. With the same exact bowtie. Emily and I were going to go to our friend’s party in our costumes, but she bailed because she wasn’t feeling well. I bet she was just worried about guys seeing her dressed up as a custard-fish-finger. (We had issues with her real costume—the skirt was way shorter than she thought it would be.)

Anyway, I ended up walking by myself in my Amy-in-Venice costume—red wig and all. (Of course, I was wearing a longer skirt…)

And out of nowhere: same guy, same clothes, same English accent. “So why am I on the television, and why haven’t I heard about it until now?”

“I don’t know, ‘Doctor,’” I used air-quotes as I spoke. “Either you have a strange knack for picking up people who’ve never heard of you, or you’ve fallen into another dimension in which you’re a fictional character. And I use the word ‘you’ loosely.”

He stopped me in the middle of the sidewalk, looked me over, and said, “Did you do something with your hair? You look different.”

I rolled my eyes and started walking again.

“You don’t believe I’m the Doctor?”

I shook my head. “No. Either you’re a complete wacko who thinks he’s a fictional character, or you’re trying to pull my leg. Again.”

He pulled out a replica of a sonic screwdriver. “Believe me now?”

“Nope. There are plenty of really good replica screwdrivers that light up, make noise, et cetera. That does not prove you’re the Doctor.”

We were passing a bike rack when he dragged me off the sidewalk.

“What if my screwdriver actually works? Would that convince you?”

I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or run away, so I just watched as he fiddled with his screwdriver and _unlocked a bike lock_.

If I had been eating anything, I’d have choked.

“Do you believe me now?” The Doctor asked, pocketing his screwdriver.

I couldn’t talk for a moment, then I said, “You have to lock it back up.”

He sighed and did so.

When I finally adjusted to the idea that the man in front of me was, in fact, _the_ Doctor, I said, “You travel through all of time and space, and you _never_ knew you were famous on Earth between the years of 1963 and 2012—and possibly longer than that?”

The Doctor shook his head and began walking slightly ahead of me. “Nah. Frankly, I haven’t had the time to watch television. And even if I had, do you think I’d bother with it at such an early stage? I mean, you people just figured out how to record and pause the screen without using ‘traditional’ (that is, for you humans) recording equipment? No, I’d be watching 28th century television—4-D TV right in your own home!” He stopped and turned in one smooth motion. “But I haven’t had the time for that. No…” He was no longer looking at me, but seemed to be looking for or at something behind me. “I’m far too busy saving the universe. Come along, Amy.” He frowned down at me for a moment before realizing his mistake. “You’re not Amy.”

I raised an eyebrow as he whipped out his sonic again and started scanning me with it.

“It’s a—”

“It’s a Halloween costume,” I interrupted. “For someone who’s over a millennium in age, you really are _thick_ sometimes.” I felt my eyes grow wide as I realized what had just happened.

The Doctor noticed too.

“Don’t say a word!” I said, pushing past him. “The more you talk, the bigger a chance I have of making a fool of myself.”

“You just spoke with an English accent!” he said, incredulous.

“No cheez-whiz, Sherlock,” I snapped.

“But you’re… _American_ —we’re in _America_. How did—”

I turned around and cut him off. “I can’t help it. When I talk to people with strong accents, I pick them up like I was born with them.”

“So… I talk to you…”

“And I start speaking like you. Of course, I also know several exclusively-English words, which doesn’t help me _at all_.”

After a silence, he asked. “Does it happen often?”

“I don’t often meet people with accents dissimilar from my own, so no.”

He looked at me like I was a new life form or something. "Well, that  _is_  an interesting talent. And what was your name again?"

"I didn't say. It's Eliza." I grimaced. "And  _talent?_ I call it a curse. One more way to embarrass myself.” After another moment’s pause, I glanced over him, unable to keep myself from comparing him to Matt Smith. “Hm… My sister will be glad to know that your eleventh incarnation isn’t as unattractive as they make it out to be in the show.”

“Was that a compliment?” the Doctor asked.

“Not really.” I backed up a bit. “But you are shorter than I thought you might be.” I almost couldn’t keep myself from grinning as he tried to stand a bit taller.

“And you’ve wanted to be ginger for a while now, yeah?” I asked, inwardly cursing my traitor tongue. “I’m sure you could do that next time around if you concentrate really hard. I mean, other Time Lords have done that before, right? And why haven’t you tried that before?”

It was at this point that the Doctor began to look really confused. And almost worried.

“Note to self: I’ve got to find out where the writer for the show gets his information.”

“ _Writers_ ,” I corrected him.

“ _There’s more than one_?” He looked almost hysterical as I nodded. Then he composed himself. “Right. That’s next on my priority list, then.” He trailed off, mumbling to himself. “Oh, and before I forget—since you already know who I am, I was wondering if you knew some place I could park my TARDIS. It’s kind of an emergency.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Uh, it’s kind of all open spaces here, Doctor. Unless you find a completely abandoned building or something, I can’t help you out.”

“Come on,” he whined. “There must be somewhere. It’s only going to be there for a few days anyhow. And it’s not until next—no, last year.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off.

“Time travel. It’s confusing sometimes. Not for me, but for everyone else in general. And in answer to your question: where’s the fun in planning how you look like next? I mean, I’d rather it be like spinning a bunch of colorful wheels and saying, ‘’Round and ‘round and ‘round they go; where they’ll stop, nobody knows!’” He spun around, as though he were going to start walking, then turned back to face me. “Who needs planning anyhow? ‘Planning’ is where all the _boring_ in the universe comes from.” He pulled a disgusted face.

I rolled my eyes and started walking again.

“Wait, wait! Where are you going?”

“I was going to my friend’s costume party before you showed up,” I called over my shoulder. “I’m already about ten minutes late as it is.”

“No, no, no, I need your help finding somewhere to park my TARDIS! Somewhere it won’t draw too much attention.”

At those words, I stopped. For a moment, I thought my heart stopped beating. I turned around slowly. “Where did you put it before now?”

The Doctor grinned sheepishly.


	3. Chapter 3

“The _stadium_? You couldn’t park the TARDIS in a less conspicuous place, like, I don’t know, the _cafeteria_?” We were standing on the sidewalk just outside the fence to the big stadium. Smack-dab in the middle of the field was a freaking blue police phone box, illuminated by the stadium’s lights. I could see a handful of students gathered around it.

“It was sort of on short notice,” he said indignantly.

“You have to move it. No, dang it.” I stopped to think. “You’ll have to wait until at least midnight to move it. Midnight’s campus curfew, so no one should be on campus that late.”

The Doctor dragged a hand through his already unruly hair. “Yes, that’s what I’ve been telling you: where will I move it?”

I tried to think of the least traveled places I knew on campus, not hitting on anything useful. “I’ve really got nothing…” I said, still racking my brain. I suddenly remembered a “shortcut” a friend of mine took once. “The Manwaring Center.” I grinned in relief. “There’s a back stairway that not many people use. You can put the TARDIS behind the stairs.” As another thought occurred to me, I said, “You can turn it invisible, and it ought to be alright for a while.”

The Doctor grinned. Imagine Matt Smith when he (as the Doctor) finds out there are space vampires in Venice. Now multiply that by about 12. “ _Perfect!_ ” He paused. “One problem, though.”

I wanted to fall backwards into the snow on the hill behind me and just give up. Instead, I opted for an irritable “What’s that?”

His mouth drew itself into a straight line before he spoke again. “It seems I’ve misplaced my key.”

“Doctor…” I whined. “ _Please_ tell me you’re not expecting to stay at my flat.”

He grinned again. “Excellent idea! I’ll get my coat!” He turned toward the TARDIS, frowned, looked down at himself, grinned again, and said, “Right. Wearing my coat.”

“Not an idea. A warning. And speaking of your coat, aren’t you freezing without a proper winter jacket? It has to be fifteen-below!” I tucked my gloved hands into my pockets. “And I have a feeling that if I breathe in too hard, my nose’ll freeze shut.”

“Nope,” he said jovially, “I’ve been completely numb for the last…” he checked his watch, which, I noticed, was backwards, “twenty minutes.” He started to walk toward the street, but paused and asked, “A warning? About… _what_ , exactly?”

“My roommate. She’s… well, let’s just say she’s a fan of yours.”

* * *

“Ugh,” Emily said as the Doctor and I entered the living room. “The _one time_ I miss a party, and there’s a guy dressed up as the Doctor! And you brought him home? Shame.” She grinned on the last word, so I guessed I was forgiven.

“Em,” I said, taking a quick look around the apartment, “Where are Ann, Thalia, and Dina?”

She waved her hand about lazily. “I dunno. Thal and Ann went home for the weekend, and Dina’s probably having fun on her Halloween date.” She lowered her voice and pulled me closer. “Speaking of dates, who’s he?”

I pulled away and said, “Em, this is the Doctor.”

She laughed. “Sure. And you’re Amy. What does that make me? A custard fish finger?”

I rubbed my forehead. _This is going to be a long night_. “Emily, this is _the_ Doctor.”

He whipped out his sonic screwdriver and twirled it around his fingers for a moment before it flew across the room. “I, uh… I meant to do that,” he said as he went to get it.

Emily gave me her don’t-give-me-that-crap look. “Have you been brainwashed, Liza?”

“Emily, you know that padlocked journal you keep under your bed?” I asked.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Go get it.”

With a sigh, she rolled off the couch and went into our room. She soon emerged with her Fort Knox journal. It wasn’t actually closed with a padlock, but the lock on that sucker was severely heavy duty just for a diary.

“Sonic, meet the Fort Knox diary. Diary, prepare to be opened.”

Emily rolled her eyes at my words as the Doctor adjusted his screwdriver to the right frequency. There was no mistaking the “click” sound of the diary lock opening. My roommate gaped openly at me and the Doctor as I re-locked the journal.

“Believe me now?” I asked.

She nodded, and finally said, “But what is the Doctor doing here?” After a moment, she said, looking at him excitedly, “Wait, has he got anyone with him?”

The Doctor shook his head. “Not a soul. I’m flying solo for a bit.”

I turned to look at him. “Well, you’re adjusting to this ‘being-famous’ thing pretty quickly.”

“I’m a _time traveler_ ,” he said wryly. “Someone’s bound to take notice sometime. Though the sixties is rather early. I don’t think I was even there-and-then for long—well, not before the moon landing, anyhow.”

“Whatever. So what are we going to do for the next… five-and-a-half hours?” I asked, looking at my watch.

“I dunno.” The Doctor walked over and sat on the short couch, stretching his legs out on the second seat. “I’d look for my key, but it could be anywhere between Kiwi Loco and here.”

“What were you doing getting frozen yogurt when your _TARDIS_ was in the middle of a _stadium_?” I was close to strangling the idiot. “And I thought you didn’t even like yogurt!”

“I was hungry. And apparently frozen yogurt isn’t _nearly_ as disgusting as regular yogurt.” He grinned like it was the second best discovery after a new life form.

Emily grinned, taking one end of the long couch. “I guess you’ve found out about Liza’s being susceptible to accents. She claims it’s a disease, you know.”

“They’re contagious,” I said flatly, taking the other end of the couch. “It’s just that I’m the only one who shows the symptoms this early.”

“So what game do you want to play?” Emily asked us.

“Game?” I said. “The Doctor is stranded here until who-knows-when, and you want to play a _game_?”

“Well, it’s like you said. You’ve got five-and-a-half hours until he can really do anything, so why not fill the awkward silence with a game?” It showed plainly that she was trying to be devious, but I sighed and relented.

“Fine. What game did you want to play?” I asked.

She grinned. “Truth or Dare.”

“No.” I shook my head. “No way. Why don’t we play a board game or something?”

She rolled her eyes. “Like what? Trivial Pursuit?”

The Doctor’s eyes lit up at hearing that, but I cut the idea down right away.

“Emily, we can’t play Trivial Pursuit.” I jabbed a thumb in the Doctor’s general direction. “ _He’d_ win, hands down. Can’t we do something with a little less… knowledge involved? Like… The Game of Life?”

“No way,” Emily said. “We don’t want him to get all sappy on us when his little blue peg person gets married and has kids. And he’ll take the blue car. You know how I feel about people taking the blue car!” Then she turned to the Doctor and said, in a manner almost uncannily similar to Donna’s, “Don’t you touch. My. Car!”

I could swear the Doctor giggled. He actually _giggled_. But Emily just missed it, and he’d deny it if anyone asked.

“Well, then,” I said, slumping in defeat. “Has anyone got _any_ ideas for what we can play?”

The Doctor smiled. “Has anyone got a deck of cards?”


	4. Chapter 4

I could feel the blood rushing to my head as I glared at my last two cards. Both even numbers. If I couldn’t ask the right person, or if the card I asked for didn’t have a twin outside of the draw stack, it would probably mean game over. Both the Doctor and Emily were down to one card. And I already misspelled the Doctor’s chosen name twice.

“Umn…” I said, “Emily, do you have a four?”

Her short brown hair bobbed up and down when she shook her head. “Sorry. Nope. Go Fish.”

I swung my legs over the armrest of the couch and pulled myself off the couch. With a sigh, I started bouncing up and down. “E-M-I-L-Y…” I started, trying to remember how she spelled the rest of her name. “J-E-N-N-E-T-T-E… D-A-R-K-E.” I kept bouncing until she nodded, her reddening face breaking into a grin.

“Finally. How many times have you misspelled my name now? Four? Too bad. I was going to make you sing seven verses of the song that never ends.”

I sat right-side-up while Emily took her turn.

When she finally got to sit back up, she said, “Hey, Doctor, I just thought of something.”

“Yeah?” The Doctor glanced under the bottom of his cards, still being upside-down.

“Can’t you open the doors of the TARDIS just by snapping your fingers?” she asked. It was a good question. I was surprised I hadn’t thought of that.

“Yes, well,” the Doctor said, “I still have to have the key in my possession, or she won’t open. She’s a bit temperamental. And moody. I can’t have her know I lost the key.”

Emily laughed.

“I have a question too,” I said. “What sort of Go Fish is this, anyway?”

“The Time Lord sort,” he answered. “Usually, when you fail to get an even-numbered card from the person you’ve asked, you’re supposed to go back in time and get a food item from the specified place and time that the asked gives, but we had to simplify it for human play.”

“You really sit upside-down if you don’t get your odd-numbered card?” I asked.

The Doctor sounded insulted. “Well why not? It seems like a perfectly good rule to me.”

I rolled my eyes, and he continued with his turn.

“Alright, Eliza. Got any fours?”

 

* * *

Dina came in around ten, saw the three of us all sitting upside-down and holding cards in front of our faces. “What are you guys playing?”

“Go Fish,” I answered. “Dina, this is John. John, Dina.”

“Hey,” Dina said as the Doctor waved hello. “What kind of Go Fish are you playing, and can I jump in?”

“It’s Go Fish: Time Lord Style,” the Doctor said. “And it’s kind of hard to just… jump in.”

“You guys and your Doctor Who,” Deen said, rolling her eyes. “Can I at least watch?”

“Grab a seat,” Emily said. “John, got any twos?”

“Go Fish.”

Em got out of her chair and started hopping and spelling. “J-O-N-A-T-H-A-N… L-E-I-G-H… S-M-I-T-H.”

“Sorry. You missed a letter.”

She continued hopping and argued, “How are we ever going to spell your name right if you don’t tell us where something is missing, or what letter, at least?”

He grinned and said, “It’s a silent ‘Q.’ Good luck!”

Emily sighed and started spelling again, this time much slower. “H-T-I-M-S… H-G-I-E-L- _Q_ … N-A-H-T-A-N-O-J.”

Dina laughed as the Doctor shook his head. “Nope. Now you have to sing ‘Old McDonald had a TARDIS.’”

Emily stopped hopping and glared at me. “Thanks for telling him Tennant’s real last name was McDonald.” And then she sang, “Old McDonald had a TARDIS, ee-ai-ee-ai-oh. With a _whoosh-whoosh_ here and a _whoosh-whoosh_ there. Here a clang, there a bang, everywhere a cloister bell. Old McDonald had a TARDIS, ee-ai-ee-ai-oh.” She sat down right-side-up, then added a sarcastic, “And thanks for telling him about the parody we made.”

I gave her a thumbs up—for me anyway—and a grin. “No problem.” Then I saw Dina had literally fallen into the floor laughing, her angel wings bending under her back. “Guys, I think we broke her.”

Dina still wanted to join in for the next game, so we dealt her seven cards and told her the rules.

“So… you only sit upside-down if you ask for an odd-number and don’t get it?” she asked.

“Right,” I told her.

“And as long as I don’t ask for another odd-card, I can sit right-way-up after my next turn?”

“Yup,” the Doctor said.

“Alright,” Dina said, gathering her cards up. “I think I’m ready.”

 

* * *

“There was a Time Lord who had a dog, and K9 was his name-o! K-N-I-N-E! K-N-I-N-E! K-N-I-N-E! and K9 was his name- _oh!”_ It seemed no one could guess where that Q was. It was our fifth guess (well, tenth, considering we got two guesses each turn), and we had been purposely asking the Doctor for cards we knew he didn’t have just so we could finally figure out how to spell his name.

“Now stop that,” he said when it came back around to me. “The game isn’t any fun if you’re not _actually_ playing.”

“Where did you find this guy?” Dina asked.

“I found him wandering the streets,” I said flippantly.

She laughed.

“I’d _really_ appreciate it if you’d not talk about me as though I weren’t here,” the Doctor whined.

“Sorry, John,” Dina said.

Emily looked at the clock. “Guys, it’s getting close to midnight. John ought to be going. Right, John?”

The Doctor flipped his legs over his head and landed smoothly on the carpet. “Right.”

“And he sticks the landing!” Emily said, standing up.

Dina said, “I’d better go change into my PJs,” got up, and left the room.

“Come back anytime, dude,” Emily said, hugging him. “Seriously. I wouldn’t mind taking a few trips with you.”

The Doctor laughed. “It’s best I don’t take fans along. And my life’s been made a television show. Have I ever had a companion named Emily?”

Em raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Not _yet_.”

He laughed again. “Sorry. I’m in a bit of a… a tough spot. Like I said, also in a bit of a hurry.” He reached up to… tip his hat? “Right… Left my Stetson on the TARDIS.”

Emily turned to me, her eyes and mouth becoming matching "O"s. I tried to send her a telepathic message. _Don’t say a word_.

Somehow she understood, but she still hugged him again. “Alright, good luck with that,” she said, sounding a little more excited than she should have.

“Er… Eliza, would you mind helping me look for my key?” he asked. “I suppose two heads are better than one. Emily, you should probably stay here in case Dina comes back out. She’ll wonder where Liza went.”

Emily pouted, but agreed. “You don’t need a fangirl slowing you down anyway.”

I put my coat and hat on and stuffed my hands into my pockets. “Alright, Doctor. Let’s go.”


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor and I started our search where he first convinced me of who he was. We looked under bikes, around corners, and in cracks, all the way down to the pedestrian crossing next to the Hart. The snow made it harder than it needed to be, and the shiniest thing we found was a gum wrapper.

We were halfway to Kiwi Loco when the Doctor stopped and smacked his forehead. “How stupid of me!”

I clenched my jaw and turned to glare at him under the streetlight. “You’d better not be telling me that I just wasted a whole hour of my sleeping time.”

“What I’d better not be telling you and what I am telling you are exactly the same, unfortunately. I completely forgot I added a homing device on my sonic screwdriver to find my key. It’s actually pretty nifty, though I’ve never had to use it before.”

I tried to stay mad, but I couldn’t. _“Nifty?”_ I said, laughing. “Allons-y, okay. Geronimo, great. But _nifty?”_

“Fine. I guess that goes in the rubbish bin with ‘Who da man?’,” he muttered.

“You actually _said_ that?” I asked. “I thought that was something the writers put in because it was funny!”

“Stop making me feel stupid. I got enough of that from Jackie, alright? Her and River. Blimey, the _women_ in my life….”

“So how does this ‘nifty’ device work, anyhow?” I asked.

The Doctor was back to his happy self in half-a-second flat. “Like this!” He pulled out his screwdriver and thrust it into the air, pushing the button. Instead of the usual whirring sounds that came from it, it beeped and blinked. He held it at arm’s length and turned slowly. The beeping and blinking got slower, then faster. “This way.”

We followed it slowly, having to stop and go back when we missed a turn. We finally found it sitting in a puddle next to the sidewalk between the Hart building and my flat.

“Finally,” I said, rubbing my sleepy eyes. The temperature was still dropping, and I was afraid my eyes would freeze shut if I closed them for too long. “Uh, Doctor?” I said, “You installed a tracking device for your TARDIS key, but you haven’t added a setting for wood?”

“Well… no. I haven’t quite gotten around to that yet,” he said awkwardly.

“Put that on your to-do list before talking to the writers of Doctor Who. Wait, no… Then neither will ever get done.”

The Doctor shrugged. “Thanks, Eliza,” he said. After a pause he asked, “Now where did you say I could park my TARDIS?”

I groaned, but started walking away from home to show him where I was talking about.

It took us a bit to get there, considering we had to watch out for ice, and I wasn’t sure where the exit came out. But when I finally found the right glass doors, I pointed inside. “Right there. See the stairs? Behind that.”

The Doctor nodded. “Brilliant! I’ll go get my TARDIS.” He turned to walk away, but then turned back. Then he got this really confused look on his face before turning away again. Then he stopped. “Eliza, come here.”

I approached his left side. “What?”

“I want you to look at that tree over there. What’s wrong with that picture?” He pointed to a small tree.

I glanced at the tree, confused, then back at the Doctor, who was making a mark on his hand with the marker he kept in his pocket.

“Go home, Eliza,” he said, still not looking away from the tree. “Thanks for the help. I can get where I’m going now.”

“No problem,” I said.

He finally looked away from the tree. “What was that?”

“You told me to go home, and thanks for helping you.”

“Right… Yeah, thanks. See you around.” He glanced down at his hand, looking very concerned about the black mark on his hand. I recognized it from the Silence episodes.

I glanced back at the tree before waving uneasily to the Doctor and starting for home.

When I got back to the apartment (which was really more like a basement), Emily had fallen asleep on the couch. I turned off the lights and went to bed.

* * *

“You saw one?” Emily asked as she sat down with her cards. “A _real_ one?”

“Yeah, but there’s the whole totally-forgetting-you-ever-saw-it thing. All I remember is looking at a tree, and then the Doctor marked his hand when I was looking at him.” I shrugged.

“And can you believe where we are in his story? I mean, come on!” She almost flashed me a peek at her cards, but she quickly pulled them back in.

“And the Doctor’s a genius,” I said, grinning.

“A flippin’ genius! Yes! And the Stetson!” she squeed.

I laughed and put my cards down. “I can’t believe he’s parking his TARDIS in the MC—no, he _parked_ his TARDIS in the MC two Aprils ago. Time-travel talk is frustrating." I sighed. "I wonder where he got the car he drove down to Lake Silencio. And the money for all that gas.”

“I thought Lake Silencio didn’t exist in real life,” Emily said.

“I guess the writers thought it would be cooler to have a ‘Lake Silencio’ to match with the Silence theme. It’s probably just a regular old lake, or even the Great Salt Lake.”

“Probably.” Emily was reorganizing her cards, so I picked mine up to continue the game.

“Hey, got any fours?”

“Nope.”

“Ugh. E-M-I-L-Y-J-E-N-N-E-T-T-E-D-A-R-K-E,” I spelled, hopping on the carpet.

She laughed as I flipped the penny we had sitting on the table. Tails. I sat down.

“So when are we going to get caught up on season seven? I think Netflix has a few of the episodes on it now.” She grinned at me, holding her cards to her chin.

“You just want to see if there’s any mention of you,” I replied, laughing, “You dork!”

“Or you! You can’t blame me, alright? I also wanna see if he plays ‘Go Fish’ with Amy, Rory, and River.”

“Oh, my gosh,” I said as a picture popped into my head. “I can totally see this happening: The Doctor says, ‘Nope, there’s a silent “q”,’ and Amy says, ‘What on Earth do you need a “q” for, you numpty?’ and then the Doctor says, ‘Well, clearly it’s not _for_ something on Earth.’”

Emily nearly fell out of her seat laughing. “You… you did the accents just right. Oh my gosh, I’m gonna die laughing!” Her voice trailed to practically nothing when she ran out of air on the last couple of words. “Don’t…” she sounded like her throat was closing up. Mine did that too, when I laughed hard enough. “Don’t stop, do another one!”

“Well, then Rory’s going to look at the Doctor like he’s an idiot and say, ‘This has got to be your stupidest idea ever,’ to which the Doctor replies, ‘You don’t want to know my stupidest idea ever. Believe me; I’ve done way worse than this.’ And River says, “I would know; I was with you for half of them.’” I couldn’t help but laugh with Emily, especially after she rolled off the couch and started sounding like she was crying. It only reminded me of that time some guy thought he’d offended her.

When we finally calmed down, Emily said, “D’you think he’ll come back?”

I shrugged. “Maybe eventually. He’s kind of a hermit, remember?”

“‘A hermit with friends?’” She quoted.

“‘Hermits United. They get together every ten years and swap stories about caves. It’s good fun. For a hermit.’” And that started the laughter again, though a little less intense. Emily was still on the floor from before. “Let’s just finish this game for now, and worry about him later,” I said.

“Good idea.” She hoisted herself off the floor and took her cards back up in her hand. “Alright, Liza. Got any threes?”

“Go Fish.” I grinned.

She sighed and inverted herself.


End file.
